"soft" macaroni and cheese

Any of you who have taken time to go through these rantings know that one of the "food issues" that most interests me is the development of the culinary "canon." By that, I mean the "sacred dishes," the ones that everyone knows, wherever they are, the way there are certain saints in theology that everyone knows. Any Catholic knows St. Mary, St. Joseph, St. Patrick. Scratch a bit deeper though. Italian catholics will remember St. Rocco (my own patron). Irish, St. Brigit. French, St. Blaise. One can go regional, as well, and find saints known in the south of France, but not the north. Even in the United States: go to Boston and you'll find familiarity with saints that you won't hear about in NY (and NO, I am not talking about St. Carl Yaz. ). So, too, with food. Hamburgers. Chili. Hot dogs. Apple pie. All universals. All cooked differently wherever you go, but all known, wherever you go. Concord grape pie. WHA???? Picalilly. Whozat? Carrots in tomato soup (WHATEVER FOR? ). And then there are foods that don't go outside of their regions successfully. Bagels in Chicago? I don't think so. Fried peaches in Connecticut? Nope.

Well, these thoughts are promulgated by a discussion of macaroni and cheese I had some time ago. If you go through these blogs, you will find a recipe for the stuff, which is very dry, is baked, and is rather solid stuff. I happen to love it that way. But what I found , much to my surprise, is that most people like a softer, more liquid version of this dish. That surprised me because, let's face it, softer, more liquid dishes are harder to eat. You can't put them on a plate: they drip off, all over you. You can't really pick them up with your hands. I made mac and cheese for a party once, and I didn't have time to do the baking. So, I brought it wet, with bowls. I have NEVER had a version of this stuff disappear faster. I made it a few more times the same way. Always the same reaction. The "icing on the cake," or more appropriately the "cheese on the cheese" came when my official mac and cheese evaluator, Keith, came by for a plate of the softer stuff. The man nearly swooned, even after a plate of my incredible (if I do say so myself, and I do), pasta with octopus and tomato sauce. 'YOU HAVE GOT TO WRITE THIS DOWN" was one of his more printable comments.

On one level, I have to laugh. To me, this just isn't cooking. On another level, I have to smile. It is truly flattering when people lap up things that I regard as "lapses" in the kitchen. But, what can I say? The weight of authority cannot be wrong. I have made this for a handful of people beyond the Keithster, and they all reacted the same way. So, ok, folks. Here it is. Not too different from my basic recipe, but different enough to suggest printing it.

As always, start with the best ingredients you can find. Good quality, fresh pasta. Organic unsalted butter. Milk from a reputable source. Good quality extra sharp cheddar: half a pound of it.

To get ready, shred the cheese and keep it at the side. Pour out two cups of milk and reserve it. Make a light bechamel by melting a stick of butter with a quarter cup of flour. Stir it well, until the flour is well incorporated, even if you have what appear to be incorrigible lumps. Add some salt. Then, slowly pour in the milk and whisk it, until the lumps break apart and you just have a thick, white mass. Cook this slowly over low heat, and keep stirring it. When it thickens visibly, add the cheese. All of it. Stir it in until it melts. You can actually do this off the heat if you like. Cover the pot and put it aside. Now cook up the pasta as you normally would, and when you drain it, save out about 3/4 cup of the starchy water. Put the pasta back in the pot and add the cheese sauce. Stir this around. Usually, the residual water from the pasta will make this liquid enough: you don't want the sauce falling off of the pasta, but you want a sense of instability (in the pasta, not your kitchen. You know what I mean), and if you don't have it, add the water in small amounts until you get it. This, in pie making, is sometimes called "slice ooze." Actually, it's almost always called that in private. Do you really want someone looking at your pie and saying "DAMN. That's great slice ooze?" I didn't think so.

And there it is. UNLESS.... when I made this, I had some left over cooked chicken breast from sandwiches. I simply sliced it into chunks and put it in with the cheese sauce. Marvelous. And from one of the tv shows on cooking, I saw Hubert Keller, the great French chef do a version of mac and cheese where he added sliced prawns. Why the hell not? If you want to stay away from that kind of meat and cheese combo, maybe a cup of peas? (I know. It seems I work for the American pea council - well, the p ee council too, these days). Peas are blissfully in season now, and they're good, as well as good for you. Go for it.